Charlastor Week 2020
by Devin Trinidad
Summary: #charlastorweek2020 Seven days of Charlastor fluff.
1. Musical

Charlie sunk to the floor, phone in hand and a frown sullying her face. She was crouched on the ground with her knees bent close to her chest and her head falling forward. In an attempt to stop her tears from falling, she breathed in and out in measured breaths. However, she faltered in her breathing exercise when she realized that she was not alone. For a moment, she considered springing up to her feet and pretending that she was okay, but she just felt so tired.

Drained.

She gathered what strength she had left and raised her head. For a second, her vision was completely obscured by red. She wiped the back of her hand against her eyes, attempting to get rid of the wetness that threatened to leak out while she pasted on a charming smile for her business partner.

"H-hey there, Alastor!" She slowly stood as she grappled with the wall behind her for support. Although her head was tilted up as if to look at Alastor directly, she avoided his gaze. Instead, she chose to look at the way his ears twitched slightly. "What are you…" She cleared her throat, slightly ashamed that her voice sounded scratchy and layered with emotions that she would rather not feel right now. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, hello there, dearest!" He flung his arms wide and spun his cane with a flourish. His smile, forever present and unnerving, had become small. Subdued. Perhaps a little gentle as he looked down at her. He leaned over her, the motion causing her to step a bit backward and to look him directly in the eyes. "Where's that smile of yours gone?"

Despite herself, Charlie felt a corner of her mouth twitch upwards.

"What do you mean?" She stretched her lips wide and pointed at the resulting expression with wild aplomb. "It's right here, Al!" A strained chuckle left her lips before she stopped short and dropped her hands fall down to her sides. God, she felt so stupid right now. Just as suddenly as her smile had appeared, it fell, leaving her face bare and unmarked.

"Hmm…" Alastor tapped one of his clawed fingers against the cupid's bow of his lips before he shook his head wildly to and fro. "No, I don't think that's a real smile, my dear! Why, it looks counterfeit!"

"Counterfeit?"

Suddenly, Charlie found herself falling back against the wall as he abruptly jumped straight into her personal space. What was even more disconcerting was the contrast between the way his bright red eyes were narrowed into thin slits while his smile had grown to cover the entire bottom half of his face. While Charlie wasn't one to get easily scared by Alastor nowadays, she did find that her heart was beating at a rate that probably wasn't healthy if she didn't calm down soon.

"Why, yes! Counterfeit! Fake!" The Radio Demon waggled his finger in front of the Princess of Hell in a patronizing manner. "Why, if I didn't know any better, I'd say that you were lying to me, Charlie."

Charlie rubbed the back of her head as she sucked in a breath. "Yeah...maybe I wasn't all that upfront with you."

Alastor's red eyes flashed, the light within them seemingly growing brighter with an unknown emotion. He twirled his cane thrice and allowed the instrument to fade from existence.

"Well then… perhaps an intervention is in order!"

Before Charlie could question his choice of words, she found that her arm dragged in front of her as Alastor began running in a random direction. They were running so fast, Charlie could barely make out her surroundings. Were they heading towards the lobby? Were they making a detour towards the kitchen? Her hotel was blurring into artificial reds and warm browns as they walked up the stairs, turned round corners, and skidded to a stop at the very top.

At that point, Charlie was out of breath, but a small smile was present on her face. When she finally registered that she was at top of her beloved hotel, she cast a side glance at Alastor who had, at that point, magicked his cane to come back to his hand. He was quietly murmuring to it, as if it could understand him. Knowing the magic the Radio Demon had, it probably could.

"Umm, I don't suppose we came here to enjoy the view." Charlie's eyes blinked wide when the head of Alastor's cane blinked at her. "Oh, hi!"

"Hello, indeed!" The microphone greeted. Like his owner, the microphone had that snappy, radio host style of speaking. "You're much prettier up close if I do say so myself."

Alastor's finger thumped the head of the cane with one of his knuckles, a disapproving glint in his eyes. "Now, now, she's a lady. You're only here to aid me in a mission in need of completion!" Alastor spun once, handed the handle of his trusted cane into Charlie's hand, and stepped back. "Come now, darling! Regale us with a song!"

A beat.

"Erm… I was kind of expecting something else?" When Charlie saw that Alastor's smile had tightened and that he seemed to hunch a little into himself, she waved her arms wildly as if to placate him. "Not that I don't appreciate the sentiment, but what, exactly, is the sentiment here?"

"Why, to make that smile of yours appear!" Alastor seemed to relax somewhat at Charlie's attempt to make him feel better, but now it was his turn. "And since you love singing—a source of great joy for yourself and for many others—I've decided to host a broadcast! With the star of the show being the Princess of Hell!" He faced Pentagram City and held his arm out in a sweeping gesture. "Wouldn't it be grand to not only release your frustrations in song, but to also advertise the hotel?"

"A-are you… Is this another attempt at—" Charlie interrupted herself with a sudden bout of laughter. "Are you seriously trying to cheer me up by advertising the hotel? Through song?"

A beat.

"If I'm not mistaken, I do believe that it's not merely just an attempt, but rather, that it's working."

Charlie shook her head before gesturing to the microphone that only blinked owlishly at her.

"Do I just go or—"

"Right-o!" Alastor leaned over the head of the microphone, tapped it, and said, in his most performative voice, "Greetings, fellow sinners and lost souls of Hell! Today, I, Alastor, have a wonderful treat for today! Less blood and gore, but just as entertaining! Meet Princess Charlie! Heir to all of Hell, owner of the Hazbin—"

"Happy."

"—Hotel, and part time singer!"

Once Alastor had finished his customary greeting, he tapped Charlie on the shoulder to signal the fact that it was her turn to take to the stage.

"Well, here goes…."

A sweet, cheerful voice began to echo from all of the radios throughout all of Hell. Whether they were working or broken, all of them emitted an eerie red glow—a sign of the Radio Demon's influence.

As Charlie sang, Alastor watched her from her side.

Her painted lips, soft and limp from crying only moments before, had turned into a lovely smile.


	2. Human Au

When Alastor had first arrived into the cafe, he was preoccupied with a book that he had been reading. When he placed his order for a coffee and received it, he turned around and felt himself get a little annoyed. He had been planning to stay a little while at the cafe for some alone time, but it appeared that all of the tables had been occupied with various college students, people who wanted to get away from the snow outside, etc. An uncharacteristic frown pulled down the sides of his lips as he continued to survey the scene.

Perhaps if he waited a few more minutes? No, the more Alastor looked, the more he realized that the college students were going to be at this place for more than a couple more hours, the people who wanted to get away from the snow were probably going to stay there until the weather let up outside, and well…. Well, it looked like Alastor was going to take the dangerous trek outside into the dank, depressing cold.

What a waste.

As Alastor took a sip out of his cup, he noticed that at one corner of the shop, there was a table facing the window. The table itself was meant to cater to four people, but only one person was present. She was blonde, had her hair up in a messy bun, and she sat closest to the window, which she used as a rest for her body as she lazily flipped through pages of a large textbook. Ah, Alastor thought to himself. Must be a college student.

Which meant…

Well, Alastor wasn't one to judge people, but he was quite certain that she would be too busy to say no to him…

Hmm…

Without a care in the world, Alastor strode over to the table near the window and stopped directly in front of the young woman. Up close, he could see that her cheeks were flushed a deep red, her lips were painted a lovely shade of black. At first, she seemed to be engrossed in her reading, but that all changed when he politely coughed out a small "Ahem".

Startled, the young woman dropped the book she was holding onto the table, the resulting thud causing some of her pens and highlighters to clatter onto the floor. It was an amusing sight if it were not for the way her lips pursed and her eyes seemed to flash with irritation. Now, that just wouldn't do for his plan!

Quickly, he got down on one knee and swept all of the fallen instruments into his hand before placing them back on the table. This time, as he looked down at the woman, she seemed in awe at him. Her mouth was open in a small 'o' and the redness in her cheeks had darkened just a tad. Alastor bit back a smug smirk—at this rate, he would surely get a seat, and near a window, no less!

"Sorry about that, darling! I didn't mean to interrupt."

The woman, still stunned from his sudden aid, swallowed and replied with a hasty, "Not at all! Just startled, is all." She looked up at him through her dark lashes and canted her head to the side. "Did… did you need anything… sir?"

"How rude of me! Alastor, at your service!" He placed a hand over his heart and bowed slightly. "However, at the moment, I'm in need of your help!" He raised a brow as he straightened from his position. "If you're up to helping me, that is."

For a moment, the woman looked unsure of herself. Alastor's grip over his coffee cup tightened. Did his course of action not play out like he had planned? Did he really have to brave the ungodly low temperatures outside? He braced himself, ready for rejection when—

The young woman began clearing three fourths of the table—goodness! she took up a lot of workspace!—so that only her corner was inhabited by her multitude of papers, highlighters, and books. Once again, she situated herself nearest the window and sat back down, a pleasant smile on her face as she gestured for him to sit down.

Now, there was another dilemma that Alastor had to attend to.

Should he sit directly in front of the young woman? Right next to the window?

Or should he sit diagonally across from her?

As Alastor contemplated, the young woman looked up at him, smiled, and pointed at the chair in front of her. "You can sit there, I don't mind."

Alastor blinked. That was unexpected. "Thank you, my dear! Looks like I've chosen the best spot in the house!"

"Oh? Why?"

Alastor smiled over the rim of his coffee. "Because I get two wonderful views to choose from."

If the young woman had been sipping her own beverage, she would have had a spit take. As it were, she merely choked a little on her words. "Anyway, I just realized, I haven't introduced myself." She proffered a hand, a hand that Alastor took into his own. "I'm Charlie!"

Charlie. Huh. Short and snappy, just like Alastor liked it.

"Well," Alastor withdrew and began to fiddle with his own novel that he brought with him. "I won't keep you." He nodded to the stack of textbooks that sat at her side. "You should probably get back to studying."

"Right!"

Standard silence amid the soft music and the chatter of the patrons around them filled in for the lack of conversation. It took only a moment, but Alastor began to be heavily invested in his novel. It was a story about a young man who had decided to kill some pawnbroker for money and was now dealing with the moral and real life consequences that follow after. It was an interesting read, if a little dry at some parts. As he turned the pages, his sensitive hearing began to pick up the sound of hushed mumbles.

He looked over the spine of his book and found that the lazy smile that he usually had on his face had softened into something that resembled fond awe. There was a highlighter sticking out of her mouth, a pen stuck behind her ear and into the already unruly bun, and she was desperately scribbling something into a notebook. During the entire time, she was mumbling snippets of what she was skimming through.

Frankly, it was far more entertaining than the book that he was reading.

He placed his book on the table and leaned a hand against the heel of his palm. He watched her as he hummed a small ditty under his breath.

As he did so, he took notice of the textbooks that lay on her side. From his point of view, they were upside down, but if he concentrated hard enough, oh my.

Theories of Personality?

Lifespan Development?

"I'm majoring in psychology."

Alastor's eyes flitted back up to hers, mischief rather than shame lighting up his features.

"That was my initial impression, yes. Am I bothering you?"

Charlie checked the time on her phone before turning back to Alastor.

"Actually, no. I think it's about time I reward myself with a fifteen minute break." She closed one of her textbooks and tossed it onto her growing pile of psychology books. "You're not from around here, are you?"

His eyes narrowed. Was he being obvious? Or was she being intuitive?

Charlie giggled at his expression. "You're wearing a knitted cap, a scarf, gloves, and a very heavy coat. It's only twenty degrees out there! It's not that bad if you're used to the cold."

"How do you know that I'm not just protecting myself?"

Charlie gestured towards the rest of the populace within the coffee shop.

Alastor sighed. "Point taken."

"You can take the hat off."

Well, Alastor didn't want to make it obvious that he was heeding her opinion, but it was awfully warm and well.

Oh well.

He sighed and took off his hat, careful to not ruffle his hair too much in the process.

"And you? Are you from here?"

The young woman shook her head, some of her golden locks falling loose from her bun. She covered her mouth with one of her hands and said, "I'm actually from Canada! Let me guess, one of the southern states?"

"Care to guess which one?"

"I haven't the slightest what states make up the south, so you'll have to enlighten me."

"Louisiana. New Orleans, to be exact."

Her eyes, pretty, dark, and brown, nearly popped out of her skull as she bounced forward in her seat. Excitement and wonder sparkled manically in her eyes as she propped her chin against the ball of her fist. He held her attention, fully and without much coaxing.

How wonderful!

"No way! Where's the accent?"

Alastor chuckled. "Ya mean like dis?"

Charlie's head fell onto the table with such unprecedented force, Alastor was half attempted to start yelling for an ambulance. Much to his vague amusement, Charlie started laughing a little uncontrollably, which only garnered the attention of the rest of the patrons there. Alastor didn't mind the unwanted attention, he basked in it, but he did send a warning smile towards the rest of the patrons there to knock it off. It wouldn't do for dear Charlie to get embarrassed.

"Your-your—!" Charlie could barely talk breathe through her bout of laughter, much less talk. She peeked up at him before another set of giggles overtook her. "Do you honestly… do you honestly sound like that?"

"Why, are you mocking the way I speak?"

Charlie's eyes widened in alarm. That wasn't what she meant at all!

"I'm joking, dear." Alastor replied smoothly. "Although, perhaps if you want to get to know me more," he lowered his voice _just so_ and looked at her in that _certain _way and, "we could leave this cafe and—"

He stopped immediately when he saw that Charlie's face was turning a very becoming shade of red.

"Ah...I actually have an exam tomorrow and, er—" She scribbled something on a piece of paper and handed it to him with the aplomb of someone who had caught on fire.

Miraculously, Alastor didn't comment on it; instead, he took it and and found that his already present smile had turned into a smirk.

He didn't even have to try to get her number! She just gave it to him!

That was…new. And unexpected.

But definitely not unwelcome.

He took a sip from his coffee and smiled gently at Charlie.

The best seat in the coffee shop not only had a beautiful view, but had perfect willingness to engage with him. How wonderful!

He saluted her with a jaunty wave and she giggled before returning to her studies.

Yes, he quite liked her indeed.


	3. Cooking

Charlie crept down the stairs of her hotel, careful to avoid the creaky stairs by keeping close to the walls. Her movements were stealthy and quiet, measured and hesitant. While she was the Princess of Hell, she didn't want to know what else went bump in the night besides her fellow demons. Down, down she went into the bowels of darkness and despair until she came across the entranceway of the hotel's kitchen. With a sigh, she began to feel against the wall until she came across the telltale contour of an outlet and a switch.

Once she flicked the toggle upwards, the kitchen was awash in the glow of bright white light. Squinting, Charlie hurriedly wandered over to the fridge. Her eyes were still adjusting to the intensity of the brightness—they were watering!—but in time, Charlie allowed her eyes to widen just a bit.

Inside the refrigerator, there was a vast array of foods that had taken up residence inside. Now that a few patrons had wandered into her hotel seeking free board or to take a shot at redemption, Charlie and Vaggie had taken up Angel's advice to stock up on food for all the weary, sinful souls under her care.

A smile twitched on her face at that.

Logically, most of the demons were here to either watch her fail or to get some free amenities, but… it was a start. A rough one at that, but a start nonetheless.

As she propped open the fridge with one of her feet, she began to peruse the contents. There were a few cartons of eggs, a loaf of bread, a multitude of vegetables and fruits, a few containers filled with leftovers… hmm… She tapped one of her fingers at the point of her chin, a look of consideration on her face.

It was early in the morning, the witching hour as one would say, so it wouldn't make her too much of a glutton if she were to eat something heavy...but… Her teeth absently chewed on her bottom lip. But, what if someone wanted to eat the leftovers during breakfast. Oh, what a conundrum.

Well, it was a good thing that she was the Princess of Hell and not the resident glutton. She took out an apple from the pile of fruits, closed the door, and—

"Alastor!" She dropped the apple onto her feet, which were sadly bereft of any and all protection that could have saved her precious toes from pain. A small groan left her lips as she bent down to retrieve her fallen fruit. Damn, it better not ended up bruised. "What brings you here?" She furrowed her brows at him in curiosity. "So early in the morning?"

Unlike Charlie, who was adorned in pajamas befitting that of a broke college student in the turn of the newest century, Alastor was dressed in his everyday attire. She had half a mind to ask if he either forewent the idea of changing into sleepwear or had abandoned the idea of sleep altogether. As it were, it was still barely three in the morning, she was craving a snack, and her business partner was eyeing her like he would with some helpless prey.

All in all, not exactly the most ideal way to start the day.

"Well, I was browsing a novel when I heard you go down the stairs! Ha ha ha!" He tilted his head back and laughed, the volume of which was sure to awaken any of the sinners who were light sleepers. If it were anyone else, Charlie would have shushed him, but… He was kind of the Radio Demon. An Overlord of Hell. You just didn't tell people like him that, even if you technically ranked above him in the social hierarchy. "Hungry for something, my dear?"

Charlie, as awkward as ever, held out her apple to the light in answer.

"Don't worry, Al! I got it all under control." She took a bite of her chosen apple to make a point, but found herself horrified when she bit into the flesh only to realize that the skin was bruised and just plain icky tasting. If it weren't for her mother's lessons on decorum and etiquette, Charlie would have surely spat out the spoiled flesh.

Yikes.

Looks like Vaggie and her were going on a grocery run later.

"Excuse me, darling, but I do believe that a face like that… well…" Alastor's radio noise began to evolve into a series of "oohhhs" and murmurs of disgust before dissolving into his stereotypical hum of white noise.

Charlie thought about asking what kind of face she had made to have warranted a response from Alastor's hidden audience, but found that she'd rather not ask.

"Fine… so my apple isn't the best treat for a morning pick me up." She shrugged as she tossed her bitten apple to and fro, from one palm to another. She followed the arc of the curve of the trajectory of the apple before facing Alastor again. She sighed. "I'm sorry for disturbing your leisure reading. I'll be sure to be more quiet next time." She turned and began heading towards the exit. "If you're planning on staying here, make sure to switch off the light when you leave."

Suddenly, there was pressure on the Princess's shoulder. It was hooked into her upper arms and clawed. Although the grip was featherlight and allowed room for her to look back at her captor, there was a warning there that Charlie immediately took notice of.

"Yes?"

Alastor's grin, which had been remarkably calm and loose lipped for the entirety of their encounter thus far, had stretched until his cheeks were nonexistent and his gums could be seen behind the tightly curled flesh.

Despite the fact that Charlie was older than Alastor and had seen more than her fair share of violence, she couldn't help but gulp and shiver at his hold. Smiles don't look like that, no matter how psychopathic an individual you were.

Alastor's smile… took things too far.

"Now, when did I give the impression that I was disturbed? Perhaps I, too, also wanted to partake in an early morning snack!"

She quirked a brow. "Really."

"Of course, my dear! There's no better time than the present to go hunting late at night, into one of the famed forests of Hell, with nothing but your wits and a knife and the prey just waiting to be carved and sliced op—"

"Oookay—" She held up her hands in the universal sign for a time out. "—I hate to cut that short, Al, but that was going into territory that is almost too graphic for a hotel of redemption."

"Charlie." His eyes, deep red and glowing with malevolent intent, narrowed in either anger or amusement. At that point, Alastor's montonity in smiling confused the Hell out of Charlie—she could barely tell what was up and what was down when it came to Alastor! "We're in Hell. Nothing is too graphic for such a decaying pit of debauchery and disorder!"

"True, but I'd rather not commit murder just so I can stave off a craving." Charlie crosses her arms in front of her chest. "I'm not that desperate."

"Hmm." Alastor let go of her shoulder and yanked the fridge door open. "What were you craving, sweetheart?"

Charlie blinked. "Are you offering to cook for me?"

"Considering that I can't cook you, I might as well cook for you, ha ha ha!"

Charlie chuckled a little at that before her eyes began to grow wide with mischief. "Have you ever tried your hand at Italian cuisine, Alastor?"

Alastor looked like he was about to reply in earnest before his smile began to freeze and grow brittle.

"Are you asking because you honestly want to have Italian? Or are you asking to get under my skin?"

Charlie smiled cheekily at him before throwing her bruised apple into Alastor's awaiting hand. For a moment, Charlie could just barely make out a record scratch amidst the crackle of white noise. He was surprised. That was probably a good sign, right?

"Anything to do with apples, Al." She threw up her hands and situated herself at a nearby island to watch him work. "Have at it."

Alastor looked at her apple, a curious furrow in between his eyes. He seemed to examine the pierces skin, of the neat little hole that had been caused by her sharp teeth. Finally, after what seemed to be like an eternity had to pass, he came to a decision.

"Something filling, but not too heavy?"

"That would be ideal, yes."

He shot her a small grin. "Then your wish is my command."

With that, he hustled towards the fridge and took out several ingredients that didn't seem like they would go together. Nearby, Charlie heaved herself onto the island's countertop and lounged there as she watched him. He began slicing her bitten apple into finely cut slices and then started to sauté them in a skillet alongside cinnamon and butter.

The aroma that arose from the pan caused her mouth to water. At the rate Alastor was going, he was sure to awaken the entire hotel. No way was anyone going to stay asleep after breathing in such a divine scent!

Next, he removed the sautéed apples and put more butter into the pan. As the butter melted over the heat, Alastor proceeded to crack open three eggs into a bowl, whisk them, and pour the mixture into the pan—after he had liberally spiced them up.

Hmm...apples and eggs, a weird combination to say the least.

"I hope I'm not boring you?" Alastor asked. During the procedure, he had been humming a simple tune or narrating what he had been doing. Charlie didn't mind, she liked his voice and it helped soothe the hunger that gnawed at her stomach.

"Not at all! You just seemed to be in your element, I didn't want to bother you."

"That's wonderful to hear! Because—" Alastor allowed the finished egg to slide gently onto a plate before adding the sautéed apples on top. With the help of a spatula and some creative thinking, he then folded the omelette in half. "—this apple omelette needs eating! What do you think?"

Charlie's eyes lit up as she made grabbing motions towards the food. She hadn't meant to be so childish, but it was well worth the embarrassment when her business partner chuckled indulgently at her before placing the dish into her hands.

"You know, it looks too good to eat!" Charlie looked at the plate in dismay. How could she live with herself to destroy such a masterpiece?

Alastor, on the other hand, didn't share her sentiments. He nudged her shoulder before gifting her a fork. "Now, now dear, it won't be as tasty if you let it cool."

Charlie rolled her eyes. "Mom."

"Thank you, I try to emulate my role models as best as I can."

Readying herself, Charlie speared a little bit of the egg and the apple and gently let it rest on her tongue.

It was—!

Voice dry, Alastor couldn't help but comment, "I take it you like it?"

Charlie couldn't answer. She bobbed her head up and down in obvious approval before grabbing a bigger piece and greedily chewing it.

"It's sweet! And savory!" After hastily swallowing another piece of the omelette, she looked up at her business partner in wonderment. "Are all humans good at combining things like these and making it taste good?"

"Nope! Just me!"

"Well, in that case," Charlie gathered a bit of her food and beckoned for Alastor to come close. "You should also have a chance to enjoy your food!"

This time, in surprise, Alastor's radio static began to grow haywire. Channels were flipped from one to another at a speed that blurred and superimposed different sounds and audio cues. There were bells ringing, voices overlapping one another; she could even detect a small snippet of her singing when she first advertised the hotel on the news. Just when the mishmash of audio chaos began to reach its peak, Alastor's radio was abruptly switched off as if someone twisted the dial with a jerk.

"Pardon?"

"I think I should be the one asking that," Charlie murmured. What the Hell was that? "But go on."

"I'll have to decline your offer, Charlie." Alastor fiddled with the bow tie around his throat. Whatever bravado he usually displayed had dimmed and he seemed… cautious. "Sweets aren't meant for me."

Charlie's eyes widened. "You don't like sweets!" Her shriek could have caused glass to shatter. "How can you not like sweets?"

"Careful, dear, there are others—"

"But you don't like sweets."

Not used to being interrupted, Alastor's lips seemed to droop a little at the corners. There was a warning for Charlie to remember her place, but she was the Princess of Hell goddamnit and she wasn't going to let this matter slide.

"That would be correct, yes."

"Exposure therapy."

This time, it was Alastor's eyes that widened like saucers. For the third time that night, a record scratch blared throughout the silence of the kitchen, which might have startled Charlie a few hours ago, but now…

Now she was a woman on a mission.

"Come again?"

Charlie slapped a fist on top of her palm as a manic gleam overcame her eyes. "I read about it from a psychology textbook. Exposure therapy is where you overcome a fear by gradually overcoming it in small doses."

Alastor chuckled—was that nervousness? "If you recall, I only said that sweets weren't for me. I have no fear of sugar."

"Then you wouldn't mind therapy."

"In order to continue, you'll have to receive my consent...which I'm not willing to give."

Charlie made a noise that was a cross between a huff and a groan. Suddenly, a smirk befitting that of any of the common mischievous imps that wandered the bowels of Hell darkened her features.

"I'm not a psychiatrist, so I don't need consent." She leaned towards Alastor as if to invade his personal space. "Some good fashioned peer pressure will do just fine."

Alastor quirked a brow at that.

"Oh, come on! Will a pretty, pretty please do?"

Alastor pinched the bridge of his nose. He did that partly because this wasn't how he envisioned his morning to go and well… he was also shielding his eyes from Charlie's searching gaze.

"Fine. If you must."

"Then open wide!"

"Op—?"

He felt confused and disoriented and then—His mouth closed upon the taste of something so sweet, yet so savory at the same time. The flavor assaulted his tongue; all he could think about was how he could barely chew and swallow the apple omelette down his throat. He was dimly aware of how the fork left his mouth and that Charlie was smiling at him with a grin so wide, he could feel his mouth twitch up slightly in response.

Grins and laughter were highly infectious things.

Finally, his throat's muscles began to obey him and he swallowed, the residue of something sweet and savory coating his tongue.

"I—" He stepped away from the Princess of Hell as he fiddled with his bow tie. "—that was informative." He cleared his throat and was almost back at the exit before Charlie stopped him once more.

"So I'll see you tomorrow early in the morning again?"

He turned around. Slowly. "And what makes you say that?"

Her smirk grew even more mischievous.

"Because… exposure therapy only works if there is repetition and done with increasing doses."

Alastor sighed before sending her a gentle smile. "I look forward to it, dear."


	4. Jealousy

"They look exactly as I would imagine they would look like." Charlie leaned against the railing of her balcony as she looked up at the blood tinted sky, her eyes intent in their focus.

As Alastor followed her gaze, he realized that she was looking up at the immaculate white sphere that was surrounded by a halo. He pursed his lips at the sight.

Heaven.

Still, Alastor decided to join her, but he opted to sit on the railing, his back to Pentagram City. "Pardon, my dear?" He leaned forward so that his chin rested on the head of his microphone, which muttered something about personal boundaries and that he didn't appreciate being used as a recliner.

Charlie's eyes seemed to be misted over, but she stayed perfectly still. Her gaze never left the moon and Alastor felt a stab of irritation ignite. Whenever Charlie had her head in the clouds, it was hard to know if he actually held her attention or if she was merely giving him filler answers.

"The angels… I've never seen one up close." Charlie chuckled wryly to herself before she glanced up at her business partner. "It's ironic since my dad used to be one, but he would never show me his wings. Something to do with it being painful and well…" Charlie shrugged her delicate shoulders, a tear pooling at the edge of one of her eyes.

Without much thought put into his actions, the Radio Demon reached into his ragged overcoat and grabbed a lace handkerchief that had been gifted to him so long ago by a dear friend. He hated having to part with it, but, as he looked at the blonde with contemplation, he found that he didn't mind. A lady in need was far more deserving of a lacy bauble than he who never cried.

With a flourish, he bent forward in his perch and dabbed her eye. All the while, he kept himself focused on her eyes, not once straying away from his target.

"You've never seen one up close?" Alastor couldn't help but wonder. "You've lived longer than all of us in the hotel combined. There wasn't a chance at all?"

Charlie laughed lowly before she faced him fully. "I think it had something to do with the fact that I am the Princess of all of Hell. It would be… sort of tragic if I were to end up dead if I went outside during the extermination." She traced the railing with one of her fingers as she glanced down at the citizens milling below. "I've always wanted to meet them. The angels. My uncles, especially."

"And God?"

She shrugged. "Dad said my head would explode and my molecules would disintegrate within seconds of beholding or perceiving his true form. It's marginally safer to view an angel up close."

"But your father doesn't count."

"That about sums it up. Yeah."

"And what about you? Don't you count?"

Charlie mumbled something under her breath. This time, instead of something heated searing his body, he felt strangely concerned and sad for the young woman. With a small hum, he gracefully jumped from his seat on the balcony railing and leaned forward slightly over Charlie.

"My dear, I hate to be a bother, but I couldn't hear you." He flashed a small smile at her when she refused to look into his eyes. "Why, if I didn't know any better, I would think that you were keeping something from me!"

Underneath his piercing gaze, Charlie squirmed and rocked on her heels. Truly, they had become closer over the past few decades while managing the hotel. Whatever walls or boundaries that had separated them back in their first meeting had slowly crumbled after years of coaxing (from her) and the eventual concession of allowing himself to be more vulnerable to others (mainly her, but it was an improvement from Alastor). With that said, it surprised Charlie a little to know that she was withholding something of great value to her person—a gesture that decades ago, she wouldn't have questioned. Now, she wasn't too sure if she should keep this matter a secret—even if the aforementioned secret wasn't exactly that.

Meanwhile, Alastor found himself impatiently waiting for her reply. After years of entertaining the masses via broadcasts, Alastor found it deeply uncomfortable that Charlie was electing to stay inside her head all this time. Inane chatter was one thing (he quite liked it when she opened up to him), but this… It was like she was hiding something from him. What if it was something important? And besides… it felt like… in a way, like she was ignoring him.

And entertainers like him don't like to be ignored.

As the radio static seemed to reach an ungodly level of noise, Charlie seemed to snap out of whatever trance that she was in. She faltered upon seeing Alastor's blank expression—or as blank as it could get while a smile still marred his features, but stood her ground.

"No… I don't think I count. I'm just a hellborn demon." She wrapped her arms around her middle and leaned over the railing. "When I was younger, I always begged Dad to let me see his wings. He would laugh it off and tell me that it wasn't worth it. I—I knew that he was lying, he's always a liar that one, but I was young and I took his word for it. And then, one day, while I was still almost a few centuries old, I managed to sneak out and watch the extermination process for the first time…"

Charlie glanced at Alastor at the corner of her eyes, unsure of she still had his attention. She need not worry. The Radio Demon looked pensive, the smile on his face was nothing more than a curved line on his face as he tried to understand her point.

"I guess… a part of me is jealous." She sucked in a deep breath, her gaze returning to her beloved city. "Don't get me wrong, I love Hell and I love the people more, but… the angels were so beautiful… Their halos, the way they moved, the wings…." Charlie shook her head to dispel her crazy though. "I've always wanted to fly into the sky, see the stars for myself…"

"By flying?"

She nodded.

"Isn't that crazy? I have everything I could possibly dream of down here, but heaven just calls to me."


	5. Date

"Why, pray tell, are we here again?" Alastor fingered his binoculars as he gazed at the scene below them. On his face, his usual smile was pinched and wavered so slightly when he caught a glance of something that he would rather not look at. "From what I can see, our presence is not needed."

"Because," Charlie stressed as she, too, adjusted the binoculars that rested on her eyes. "We need to make sure that Angel Dust is okay."

Alastor sighed and set his binoculars to rest on his chest, the straps of the binocular allowing him to do so. He tapped Charlie lightly on the shoulder, careful to not allow his claws to accidentally dig into her clothing.

"I may not be the most knowledgeable concerning…. whatever this is, but I assume our neighborhood spider knows what he's doing. After all, doesn't he do this for a living?" He gestured towards the aforementioned spider demon who, if one were to look closely, was smiling contently in the presence of another. "I know that you're worried about your first patient, but isn't this an invasion of privacy?"

Charlie fumbled for words as she tried to justify what she was doing. On one hand, she truly cared for Angel. She loved him like a brother and she knew that he felt the same for her. It had taken a while, a few years in fact, but Angel went from outright sabotaging gangster to a harmless, annoying prankster. His tendencies for evil were curbed and he was, for the lack of a better word, almost angelic. Perhaps this year, he would be eligible for an appointment from a few angels from Heaven. Of course, it would be a slow process, but Charlie knew that he had it in him. As for this current situation, well…

Could you blame Charlie for being so careful? She didn't want Angel to be corrupted by the common sinner or worse, she didn't want him to get his heart broken after months of therapy about his self-esteem and purpose in life.

Therefore, it was up to Charlie and whoever was willing to help her, to make sure that Angels' progress was heavily monitored.

In this case, they were monitoring Angel's date with a newbie who had fallen into Hell only a few weeks ago.

"Come on, Al! I thought you were all for entertainment no matter how unethical it may seem."

"That, my dear, applies to murder, cannibalism, and general discontent. This," he grandly gestured to the scene below, "is trivial, and frankly, disturbing." His eyes widened in disbelief as he adjusted the clarity of the binoculars' lenses. "What are they doing with their mouths?"

Charlie gasped and did the same. "Oh my gosh!" She squealed with happiness. "They're kissing and they look so happy together and—"

Alastor clapped a hand over her mouth, which caused Charlie to look up at him in question.

"Careful, dearest. Do you really want all of Pentagram City to know that you're stalking one of your patients? I may not care about the hotel's main theme, but it would hinder our business."

"Ugggghhhh, fine, " she answered, though her voice was heavily muffled by the hand that was held over her mouth. She pushed Alastor's hand away from her own before magicking her binoculars into a pocket dimension for safe keeping. "Since it appears our presence isn't needed, what do you want to do?"

"The Princess of Hell in want of something to do, with me, the infamous Radio Demon? Why—" He placed a clawed hand over his heart, a mocking look on his face. "—I haven't felt like swooning ever since my mother last pinched my cheeks!"

"Har de har har." Without warning, Charlie took hold of Alastor's elbow and steadily guided him in the opposite direction of Angel's date. All the while, she ignored how Alastor's radio static gradually began to feel less like a radio tuning into different channels and more like a satanic ritual gone wrong.

There was a lot of screaming and moaning of the damned.

"Lighten up, Alastor!" Charlie tugged him even closer as their footsteps went from a casual stroll to outright running. "This is gonna be fun!"

Alastor's smile tightened in annoyance.

* * *

"When I said that entertainment applied only to murder, cannibalism, and general discontentment, I didn't mean that the general discontentment should apply to me."

"I don't know… I feel like this is plenty entertaining."

"My dear, I've lured hordes of demons into the pitch darkness of insanity just by hearing my broadcasts. Don't assume that you are the sole exception."

Much to his dismay, instead of the fear that Alastor craved, Charlie merely nodded at his little spiel and politely—_politely!_—booped him on the nose.

Twice.

Charlie and Alastor were seated at a small cafe that Vaggie and Charlie used to frequent before life at the hotel became too hectic. Inside, there were demons that were punished for lower level sins: theft, suicide, being a disturbance to the rest of society, etc. The patrons were often undisturbed and polite, at least when compared to the rest of the denizens of Hell. In fact, when the hotel had first opened, most of those who had frequented this establishment had actually gave a thought into joining the redemption business. Not all were redeemed, however, but everyone was in a work in progress.

As it were, Charlie was entranced by the newer additions on the menu while Alastor was nursing a mug of black coffee. His arms were crossed in front of his chest, his feet tapped nonsensically on the hardwood flooring, and his smile was strained at best.

"I feel like I want to order," Charlie announced as she snapped the menu shut. She assessed Alastor's position and the fact that his menu was busy acting like a coaster for his coffee. Like always, his eyes were trained on hers—creepy, but not as much as when they had first met. "What say you, Al?"

He gave a long suffering sigh before gesturing towards the soup section on his menu. "Probably not the most palatable of choices, but it will have to do."

"Food snob," Charlie lightly teased. "You won't like it until you try it."

He arched an eyebrow, his foot ceasing its tapping. "Does that apply to this situation?"

"Kind of? Look, it's been a while since we've had some downtime without business hanging over our heads. Why not just have some fun for a couple hours before we start filing our taxes and whatnot." Charlie stirred in some sugar into her tea and inhaled the inviting aroma. "I mean, if Angel can go on a date, then why not us?"

Alastor's radio static, which had been a low murmur for the majority of time they had been staying at the cafe—at Charlie's request, of course—suddenly stopped. The dead silence, which had been foreign to Charlie ever since the Radio Demon had shown up at her door, had most of the patrons that were brave enough to withstand the Radio Demon's presence running. However, Charlie had been more than acquainted with Alastor at this point—at this point, they could be considered friends—and she simply took another calming sip of her tea. Gone were the days where she felt socially awkward and shy around her dear friend. A perturbed Alastor was still an Alastor that didn't have the means to hurt her. She was too powerful for that, anyway.

Besides, Alastor looked like he had sucked on the world's sourest lemon than angry.

Which was obviously a big improvement.

"Would you care to repeat that, Charlie?"

"Fine. I'll rephrase it." Charlie leaned forward into Alastor space, causing him to jerk backward and away from her. The radio silence continued and Charlie couldn't help but smirk at Alastor's… lack of bravado. "You. Me. On a date. Now."

Alastor blanched at that and for a moment, Charlie almost felt bad.

But this was Hell, she was the Princess of all of Hell, and she would be damned if she didn't feel a little vindicated for all the times that Alastor had scared her in the past. Revenge was sweet whenever she was serving it.

Soon, the usual radio static resumed, although it sounded like he was flipping through channels before settling on something that sounded like slow jazz.

"Trying to lift the mood?"

"Were you requesting that we go on a date right now or…" Alastor almost sounded embarrassed. He fiddled with the tie that was wound tight against his throat and his ears, cute little things they were, had lain flat against his head. "… are we already on one?"

"Depends. You get to decide. Either way, we are going to enjoy ourselves." With that note of finality, Charlie turned back to her tea and enjoyed the sweetness that settled gently against her tongue.

Alastor's ear's seemed to shudder against his head before he, too, took a sip of his preferred drink.

"A date." He shook his head at that colloquialism, a disturbed look on his features. "Back in my day, we would call it courting and it was usually the gentleman coaxing the dame and not the other way around."

Charlie shrugged. "It's the twenty-first century and counting. You either get with the times or you'll eventually be left in the dust." She giggled quietly to herself. In a voice no louder than a mouse's whisper, she said, "I'm older than you, but you're acting like an old man."

Alastor's ears twitched in irritation. "I heard that, dear."

"I would be surprised if you didn't. Now, about that date?"

"I should have known that you wouldn't forget." Alastor drummed his fingers atop the table. The jazz that was playing in the background seemed to grow little distorted and erratic the faster that Alastor continued his little drumming session until—

"I suppose we might as well make the most of our time spent right in the here and now." He still looked a little perturbed, but the jazz had returned and the smile that was on his face was one of gentle consideration. He had agreed. "But please, nothing untoward and violating the five—"

"The five foot rule," Charlie chimed in, looking like she had won a million dollars worth of gold. "Don't worry, Al! I got your back! It's not like I would make you do anything that would make you uncomfortable."

"This farce of a date says otherwise." Voice dry, Alastor hummed a few bars of an old musical number he heard when he was a boy and proceeded to stand from his seat. Any demons that had not left the vicinity began to run out the doors or fall unconscious to the ground—staff included. "However, I suppose that I must bend one of my rules just this once."

A little worried that she may have pushed his buttons a little farther and harder than what was necessary, Charlie also stood up—albeit, a little too hastily so that her seat toppled to the ground.

"Alastor, what are—"

He took both of her hands in his and smiled a smile that was fit for one of the most mischievous imps in all of Hell.

"What is a date without a little entertainment?" He whistled low under his breath and immediately, there was a change in lighting, scenery, and even the table that they had occupied appeared to be heavily laden with food. "Care for a dance, my dear?"

Charlie looked in awe at their arrangements before pulling in Alastor close so that their bodies were flush with each other. She could feel both of their bodies melding into each other as their feet seemed to know what to do.

"It would be my pleasure, Alastor."


	6. HurtComfort

Charlie had told her it was best that they stayed separate for now.

Charlie had told her that it was best that they break things off now before things would get worse.

Charlie had told her many things, but she didn't expect that any of them would have a positive effect on Vaggie—or her.

For now, as Charlie huddled in the one place that no one would ever check (the rightmost stall of a bathroom in desperate need for renovation on a floor that was evacuated due to a brawl a few weeks ago), she would just relax and let none of her worries touch her now.

But that's what Charlie had been busy telling herself for over three hours. However, all she could do right now was sit and cry while browsing all of her albums featuring her beloved partner when they had all those good times trying to redeem fellow sinners or hanging out or that one time—Oh! Why was Charlie doing this to herself! This was torture of the sweetest kind! A part of her wanted to throw her phone into the deep, disgusting bowels of the toilet beneath her, but another part was too damn sentimental and wanted to hold onto that phone like it was the only thing keeping her sane.

Charlie loathed the position that she was in, but after the events of last night…

Suddenly, Charlie heard a disturbance in the darkness. It was faint, but repetitive. And it was coming closer.

Footsteps, she knew that it in the back of her mind. However, she didn't want to contend with the fact that either someone found her or worse, someone was just stumbling in on this part of the building. Whatever the case, she simply tightened her arms around her knees and stifled her sniffles. It wouldn't do for someone to see her so weak and vulnerable. Especially since she hasn't told anyone, save for Vaggie, about what happened.

The hands that clenched at her knees became unbearable; they were too tight. Her nails, always kept short to prevent them growing into claws, dug deep into her skin, almost drawing blood. There was only so much that Charlie could do before—

The bathroom door slowly creaked open and the footsteps from before clacked loudly on the linoleum. Ah, she could recognize that telltale click clack of dress shoes anywhere. It was Alastor and by God, she didn't want to have this on her plate as well. Holding her breath wouldn't work, Charlie knew that his ears could hear the most imperceptible of sounds. It was only a matter of time.

"Oh, Charlie," his voice was mirthful, but not unkind. He had stepped in front of her chosen stall. Thankfully, he didn't see fit to slam his fist upon the door or worse, force his way in. Having the Radio Demon also be a gentleman from a bygone era had its downsides, but for now, it saved her from seeing him.

For now.

"I know that I can be intimidating, but it's been years since you've last stuttered around me!" He chuckled and the low, mellow tones had Charlie minutely relaxing within the hold of her arms. Still, she kept her breathing quiet. There was a pause outside of the door, an audible one that was only signaled by the radio frequency stuttering around a bit before going back to its scheduled programming. "Darling, Vaggie told me to come find you, which is a miracle no one asked for in Hell, but oh well." Charlie could practically see him shrug comically in her mind's eye, the image of which almost had her smiling into the crook of her elbow.

"Ah," Charlie managed to croak. Her voice was shaky, like an old rickety building just moments away from crumbling away. "Did… Did Vaggie… Did she…" Why did it hurt to say her name so much? Saying a name shouldn't have held so much power, but here was Charlie, wasting away in a cell of her own making while her dearest love's name scratched and clawed at her throat while the pit in her stomach threatened to swallow her soul whole. A soft whimper left her lips and she nearly had an aneurysm. Alastor was here! He could hear her breathing, possibly the way her heart was beating at a rate that would have been harmful to humans. Of course he would be able to hear her!

Despite his excellent hearing, Alastor refrained from commenting on Charlie's state of mind. Instead, he surprised Charlie with an observation.

"It was Extermination Day yesterday. Was it not?"

"Er…I'm pretty sure you of all people know that." She didn't mean to sound so mean, but where was he going with this? On top of that, he didn't even bother answering her question. "What does that have to do—"

"And your…uncles came to visit you. Alone." Another observation. A stone cold fact that chilled Charlie to the bone. No one knew about that. Not even Vaggie. How could—? "Darling," he said easily, as if he could see her expression from the other side of the bathroom stall, "you weren't really that secretive yesterday. Vaggie had me tail you. A risky, but bold move. Entertaining, even."

Charlie felt like he should have laughed at that moment, he was an entertainer, he knew when certain beats and phrases were emphasized, yet… He kept his voice subdued. It was almost as if he were respecting the ordeal that she had gone through yesterday.

"So… you heard everything?" She chuckled bitterly. "Does… she know?"

"If you are referring to your dear lady friend, then yes. That woman put her spear to my throat and of course, I had to tell her everything lest you want to run this hotel all by yourself." His voice, even lower than before caressed her ears and had her looking up at the stall door in wonderment. "I know that I shouldn't pry into your affairs, but it's quite telling that I'm being the mediator between the two of you when it should be me stirring up chaos in my wake. Why don't you tell her how you feel?"

"Feel? Feel?" Charlie threw herself off the toilet seat and wrenched the door open. Miraculously, Alastor managed to avoid being hit as the door swung wide in his direction. Normally, Charlie would have taken care not to make such a fuss, but at heart, she was a soul that felt too much at times. She needed to let it all out, no matter the consequences. "How would you feel if your partner was destined to be taken away within a year because your stupid plan worked? How would you feel that no matter what you do, you can't join her because of your parents? Because of the place where you were born? How would you feel if your girlfriend who loves and trusts you so much decides to leave your side for good because—because—because—"

With every question she threw at Alastor, the Princess of Hell would poke him in the chest, all pretense of acting the fool in their business relationship thrown to the wayside. She didn't care that Alastor was seething underneath that damnable grin of his. She didn't care that her voice was loud and that half of Hell could hear her. She didn't care that water was dripping down her lashes and onto the full apples of her cheeks. She didn't care that heat was rushing towards her flushing face, how she wobbled and screamed for some sort of sign that all of this was a nightmare.

After what had seemed like an eternity of spewing out questions that Alastor couldn't have possibly known the answer to, Charlie had fallen silent. Her head was bowed low, fists clenched and trembling at her sides. Her hair, usually gently curled and vibrant, was matted down to her scalp, tangled because in her frustration, she would tug at her locks. For a moment, there was not a sound in the bathroom; for once, there was radio silence.

When Alastor spoke, the filter that masked his voice was gone. His words were crisp and clear, as was tradition of the Mid-Alantic accent, but there was another accent layered underneath his main mode of speaking. His consonants were rounded off, his vowels drawled and blurred together. Belatedly, Charlie realized that he was a Southerner, which matched up to his chosen cuisine whenever he would cook, but she had never asked. Never confirmed what was probably so obvious during their time together as business partners.

"Charlie, I wouldn't know how to answer any of those questions. To be honest, I don't think I would ever have the heart or the stomach to even try to attempt to phrase such sentiments." Charlie felt rather than saw that Alastor was looming over her, his shadow encompassing her much smaller frame. She shuddered when she felt his clawed hand rest against her locks, had tried blinking away tears when he began combing through them with a gentleness befitting a mother grooming her child. "But, my dear, you can. I'll be the first to attest that Vaggie was in hysterics when you ran away from her. She went from yelling to pleading with me to find you." He tugged Charlie closed and rested his head on top of Charlie's. "Imagine that, your dear love acting quite the sweetheart to me when she knew that you were going to fall to pieces."

Charlie sucked in a deep breath. "She probably hates me for doing this to her."

Alastor stopped his gentle petting before pulling away from her.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Have her fall in love with me. Allow her to date me. Get her sucked up into the hotel redemption schtick and then—and then—" She shrugged her shoulders, not noticing how Alastor's radio static seemed to grow erratic and imbalanced. "Well, you were there when Uncle Michael, Uncle Raphael, and whoever else was there when they told me. At least they gave me one year to say goodbye."

"I probably should have known this before I've ever properly introduced myself, but you are very conceited, my dear."

Charlie's head whipped up from gazing down at the floor and straight into the Radio Demon's eyes. For the first time since Alastor had stepped into her bathroom, she noticed that he looked…ragged, well more ragged than usual. His eyes were glowing a faint red, which only heightened the shadows that lay under his eyes. His clothing was bedraggled and torn, flecks of blood and an assortment of dirt was layered over his customary jacket. He was, in the words of one Husker, looking like shit.

She brought a hand up to her ashen lips, tears springing anew in her eyes.

He was telling the truth; he really had been following her to the meeting place with the angels. Had she known that he would have followed her into the forest where sinners first appeared from Earth, she would have picked somewhere closer. And cleaner.

Now, all her guilt over what happened last night was compiling into one burden.

"A-al! Have you slept at all?" She cried as she hurried to him. A hand brushed against his cheeks, another straightened the lapels of his coats. He was always well dressed—putting on the ritz, he would say. This was simply unacceptable for the Radio Demon! "I'm so sorry—"

He shook his head lowly at her. "You should know better by now, I don't sleep."

"But I'm worried and I can help you—"

"And therein lies your problem. You're so compassionate and wanting to do good by others; you want to bear the loads of everyone around you. Yet, you don't care. Not at all." He held up a hand, effectively stopping Charlie from demanding what he meant. "You claim to start redemptive therapy for the good of all sinners. You claim to want everyone to end up in Heaven. You claim you're doing this to stop overpopulation in Heaven. But. You. Don't. Care.

"You're doing this because you want to be there. Your blood that runs through your veins calls out for the sweet ambrosia of God's love and acceptance. You want it, you crave it. So you get an idea; do enough good deeds that are worth mentioning to the higher-ups in Heaven. Along comes someone who believes in your cause. Another one joins just to jumpstart the business. Another, another, another, and you feel like you're actually succeeding, but in reality, you're just gathering up the clout, the good points to get you into Heaven. Then, all of a sudden, the wish that you had been preaching gets granted.

"Do you feel proud of yourself? Do you feel the need to rejoice and celebrate? After all this hard work why not celebrate? Yet, you don't. You're here throwing a pity party in a bathroom that has seen better days. You want to know why?

"You're bitter and jealous. You're resentful that the one person who you thought would stay by your side until the end actually worked hard enough for the chance to be redeemed.

"Besides, have her fall in love with you? Allow her to date you? And what was that last part you said? Allow her to get sucked into the hotel redemption schtick? What do you take her for? I may not have the highest of opinions on her, but I do know this: she went with you because she utterly cares more about you than she does about redemption.

"That's why you're conceited, dearest Charlie. You're doing all of this because you hope to earn something after all of this. Vaggie did those things not only for you, but for herself. She wanted to fall in love, so she did. She wanted to get closer to you, she did. She believed in the redemption process and now—Look! She has it."

Alastor knelt down on one knee and clasped Charlie's hands in his own. His claws had retracted back into the supple leather of his gloves, allowing them to gently touch her skin.

"I apologize if I'm being harsh, but it must be said. You of all people should be happy—nay! proud—that Vaggie has earned her spot inside those pearly gates." His grip gently tightened around her wrist, pulling her gently onto the floor with him. "Go to her and talk. You have an entire year left with her before your uncles come to take her away on Extermination Day." He tapped a finger against her cheek. "Before that, I recommend you take a long bath. You're smelling a bit ripe."

Charlie… Charlie didn't know what to say. After so long, she knew that there were times when the Radio Demon had his moments, both good and bad, but this speech was unheard of! Without warning, Charlie launched herself into his chest and felt a fresh slew of tears escaping her eyes. She was probably adding to the mess that was already caked onto his clothing, but at that point, she didn't care that she was brought low and vulnerable in front of her business partner.

"Thank you," she murmured into his lapels. "I…your methods need some work, but it really got to me."

"I will look into better methods for the future. In the meantime—" He surreptitiously tried to move away from her, but the soft arms that surrounded him wound tighter than a cog in a well polished clock. A loud sigh fell from his lips. He should have expected more physical sentimentality than was reasonable from Charlie.

"You know, you could be a motivational speaker for some of our group therapy sessions. Who knows, you might be next for redemption!"

"Ha ha ha! Not a chance, sweetheart."


	7. Free Day

Alastor fingered the piles of papers that were heaped onto his desk. Although he was used to working long hours, working at the hotel was pulling at the last threads of patience that he stubbornly held onto. Of course, the hotel was entertaining, not at all boring. However, there were times when Alastor thought that he was slowly, gradually being pushed to the edge of his rope. There were times when Alastor thought about taking up Charlie's offer to leave when his hunger for entertainment had been properly sated.

Now that the hotel was up and running, it felt like he was no longer needed.

Had the hotel only lasted for a few months?

Did Alastor have to go out into Hell and cause more chaos and terror to relieve himself of his ever present boredom?

Behind the careful mask of a smile, Alastor felt like he was going to explode from irritation. It shouldn't have been this quick—what was he doing wrong? What more could he do to create more… more of that special something that would ease his frustration? As he thought about his conundrum and his unwillingness to face the fact that he was, yet again, bored, there were a few sharp raps on the door to his office.

Lazily, he snapped his fingers and allowed the door to swing open. It creaked a little, causing the Radio Demon to snarl a little to himself. As a prey animal demon, his hearing was highly attuned to the softest of noises; the squeal was almost too much to bear. He made a mental note to bring this oversight to Niffty later.

"Al! Guess what! I—"

At Charlie's sudden pause, Alastor finally graced his gaze upon her figure, only to come face to face with a look of such concern, he found his smile pricking with uncertainty at the edges. Why was she looking at him that way?

He straightened in his chair and interlaced his fingers together. "Charlie, dear, are you all right?"

Charlie chuckled, a sound that initially put Alastor on edge. Was she laughing at him?

"Am I all right? Am I all right?" Charlie raised both of her arms in an overly exaggerated, exasperated manner. "I think the real question is are you all right?" At Alastor's dumbfounded expression, Charlie elaborated. "Have you seen a mirror recently? You look like Hell, and let me tell you, I should know."

A small laugh left Alastor's lips. Her sense of humor was a welcome change from the monotony of doing paperwork.

"Honestly, my dear, I've been so busy—"

Charlie snapped her fingers and all of a sudden, Alastor was face to face with himself.

"Oh. Wow." Alastor ran a finger through his tangled locks of hair, watching as his doppelganger in the mirror did the same. His hair was greasy and stringy, as if it had been a while since he last took a shower. Normally, Alastor was a well groomed man, meticulous to a fault. It appeared that today was just not his day, though. With a sigh, he stiffly stood up from his desk and headed past Charlie. "Charlie, it appears that I need to take care of some matters."

Charlie laughed before catching his wrist. He turned to her, a look of confusion on his face.

"Take some time off, Al. Everyone deserves some time off!"

"I actually was planning on returning to—"

Charlie began urging him forward. "Take a break, Al! It doesn't matter if you don't finish your work today!" She gave him one final push in the direction of his room. "You can always do it tomorrow!"

For a moment, Alastor thought about giving more excuses to continue working after he freshened up, but he refrained. Perhaps…

Perhaps there was some merit to what Charlie said.

He flashed her a smile, a genuine that made his eyes twinkle and his eyes wrinkle at the corners.

"Thank you, my dear."


End file.
